To see the Wolves
by Butterbird
Summary: The Salvatores are a powerful House of the North that neighbors Winterfell, so Giuseppe Salvatore decides that it is time for his children to foster friendships with the Starks, so they all take a trip.
1. The arrival

The Salvatore children were going on a visit to Winterfell, their father had said it was to foster relationships between the two houses of the North but Damon knew it was just an excuse to get rid of them. He travelled the short journey from Boreal to Winterfell but did not speak a word, he didn't try to comfort Faye or Stefan; it was their first trip away from home and neither truly knew what it meant and assumed they weren't coming back. One of the maids had tried to hush Faye when she began crying but she had only made her more upset, eventually Damon rolled his eyes and made his way to the other side of the carriage. He sent the woman away and sat next to Faye, rested her head against his chest and muttered an old lullaby he could only half remember until she fell asleep. His sister still resting on his chest he forced Stefan beside him and started to tell him stories of the great wolves they were going to visit. Damon himself hadn't met the Starks, he had never been to Winterfell but he had heard great stories of Lord Eddard Stark from his father and the man rivalled the King for Damon's admiration.

As the carriage pulled to a stop, the jolts startling Faye awake, with a gentle push she stumbled to her rather shaky feet. Her brothers followed suit but their father gave a disapproving tut, Damon looked between his brother and sister, _what on earth was the man disapproving of_? Before Damon could challenge the Lord of Boreal the man took oversized, quick strides to the exiting end of their carriage, before descending into the snow. Even as a Northerner, accustomed to the cold chill, he pulled his cape tighter around his body. He was quickly enveloped into a warm welcome, although it wasn't quite enough to melt the ice that had frozen around his heart.

As the three children emerged from the carriage their Lord father was embracing the man that was a stranger to them. Faye shifted uncomfortably and a servant whispered at her to straighten up and look presentable, she looked to Stefan for reassurance but he looked at frightened as she. Finally their father broke conversation with his Lord friend and turned to his children, he ushered them forwards and they timidly did as they were told. "My eldest son. Damon." At the mention of his name, all eyes were then on him; Lord Stark's, his families that had lined themselves similarly to the Salvatores and the servants and others who had also come outside to greet the Lord and his children. Damon was the eldest and he knew the rules of polite society better than his young siblings, he took a step forwards into a deep bow.

"It is an honour to be welcomed to your home Lord Stark," he looked up into the eyes of the wolf before him. The man he had been told so many stories about had looked rather ordinary stood before him only a few seconds ago, that was until he had looked into his eyes. It was as though he was looking into a storm; there was a depth to this man he had never seen before, secrets, sadness, honour, love and so many more than Damon did not yet know the name for. In that moment he wanted to impress the man, made him feel proud of him the way his own father never had. He turned to his siblings, when they stumbled for words and their father felt he had done enough work himself, Damon decided it would be best for him to continue. "These are my siblings, My Lord. The eldest it Stefan, his eighth name day was only a short while ago and then our youngest, Faye, she herself is only barely seven but becoming quite a lady already." Perhaps he shouldn't have fed that lie to the Lord of Winterfell, Faye wasn't anywhere close to becoming a lady, she was probably far closer to waking up as the sigil crow of their house than a lady. His siblings gave appropriate bows, curtsies and mumbled courtesies.

"It is a pleasure and honour to have you in our home," Lord Stark's voice boomed. "Come inside and we shall finish introductions there over some wine and hot food." Eddard Stark placed his hand on Giuseppe's back and lead him inside, the three children looked between each other before following the footsteps in the snow in towards the heart of Winterfell. It was then that it dawned on Damon how much he disliked being highborn, he wanted to yell and curse and run, he was already tired of all the 'My Lord's. He took in a deep breath of cold air as he realised his was merely the beginning.


	2. The Bastard

After they arrived they had been brought to the Great Hall for a feast, the children were seated below the parents, in a line where Damon had somehow been stuck in the middle. The eldest Stark child was barely older than his own brother and the daughter a babe who needed some maiden sat next to her in case she began to fuss. Damon was fourteen, a man, and he was bitter at having been seated with the children. He had eaten in silence, ignoring any attempts made to converse with him; his father was sure to be angry with him later, but Damon couldn't find it in him to care. The elder he got, the more and more his father disapproved of whatever he did; he used to pretend that he was a bastard, he was his mother's son and didn't have an ounce of his father in him after all. He dreamt that one day his father would no longer be his father, he wouldn't have to become a Lord and live by his father's word. But no matter how much he tried to escape it, Damon was a crow, he could feel it in his heart, he had the blood of the Salvatores running through his veins, and as much as he may have wanted to ignore it, he knew that it was there.

When the feast was over his younger siblings retreated to their chambers but Damon decided instead to explore the grounds of Winterfell; he would have wandered into the woods but these were unfamiliar and from what had heard, more dangerous. He instead stayed inside the grounds, he hadn't found anything particularly interesting so had decided to see the training grounds. His father had taken his sword from him, it would be disrespectful to carry one around a friend's home, he said, but Damon now felt naked without it. As he turned the corner he paused, he could hear heavy breathing and panting, he pressed himself against the wall and very slowly peered around. The only excuse his father would have accepted for him to being out of his chambers would be if he were with one of the Stark children, the men knew this and if they saw him it would not end pleasantly. He was rather surprised to instead see young boy, wooden sword in hand, hacking away at some invisible enemy. Damon raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, no longer feeling afraid. The boy had dark locks that danced along with his every movement, when he took a break to pant and lean on his knees, Damon saw the grey eyes and Stark face. Ah, Damon thought, this must be the Stark bastard.

When the boy raised his head he noticed Damon, startled, he dropped his wooden weapon to the floor and stumbled backwards. Damon couldn't help but smirk as he walked towards the younger boy. "You know," he spoke, leaning down to pick up the weapon. "You'll have to train your nerves to withstand far more than that." The boy didn't respond, he just watched Damon with wary eyes. "Are you the Stark's bastard?" At that he frowned deeply and screwed up his little fists at his sides.

"My name is Jon! Jon Snow!"

Damon just gave a shrug, unmoved by his emotional display. "And I'm Damon Salvatore. Nice to meet you Jon." The boy's frown did not falter and he stared at him with distrustful eyes. It was sad really, he must have been around Stefan's age, but in his eyes he was far, far older. Damon gave the sword a spin in his hands, catching the other end and holding the grip out to Jon. "Do you want to be knight, Jon?" He pressed the sword closer to him when he didn't take it. At that Jon snatched it, squeezing the end so tight his knuckles turned white.

"I can't," he murmured quickly. Bastards got no honour, he supposed, no pride, all because their fathers decided to fuck someone other than wives. Unfair, but that was life.

"How about this," Damon began to walk, encircling him. Jon span quickly, trying to keep up. "You can return to Boreal with my father and siblings and you become Lord when the time comes. I'll be in taverns, drinking and fucking." At that Jon's anger seemed to bubble, he raised his weapon in the air and launched it and Damon. He had just enough time to throw his arm up in defence so the wood smacked against that instead of his face.

"Shut up!" Jon yelled, he raised the weapon again, tears in his eyes. Damon raised his hand, gripping the wood on the other end, he gave a yank and pulled it from Jon's grip. He looked at the boy as he rubbed angrily at his eyes, and tried to cool the stinging on his hands, he saw his brother, his little sister, it was how they looked when he pushed them too hard. He placed the sword on the floor and bent to his knees, gripped onto Jon's shoulders.

He gave him a small smile, a silent apology, Damon hadn't spoken the actual words for years now. "How about I teach you tricks with that sword? I bet you play against Robb, eh?" Jon gave a little nod. "Who wins most of the time?" He took silence to mean Robb. It wasn't surprising, even what he had heard of the great Lord Stark, he couldn't control everyone and most deplored bastards. He hadn't been seated with the other children at the feast, that was proof enough. "I can teach you some tricks so you can knock him on his ass?" At his little small, Damon ruffled his hair, reached down and handed him back his sword.

The sun was near rising by the time the two were done, both sore and aching as they snuck back to their chambers. Damon was sure he had been asleep only an hour before his siblings started banging on his door, teary eyed as they informed him that father had been called back home. But Damon wasn't surprised, in fact, he wondered what had taken him so long.


End file.
